


Val'Sharah

by orphan_account



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, i finished it today and spruced it up a bit, maybe i'll write more about these babes soon!, oh man this is SUPER old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8720968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: How annoying can a highborne get? It isn't like she has to stay for long....Well. Perhaps she's been under-estimated. The first red flag was being a mage.





	

A small-time village of Val’Sharah flurries with activity.

People of all factions, races, and trades push through and around each other as various healers and soldiers flow into the close-knit community, carrying wounded allies with them. The soldiers pass off the impaired to the healers and the healers go their own routes, mostly shying away to the homely trees to care for their patients.

Yet, with so much action, a particular pair stands out. A sin’dorei demon hunter shuffles in, supporting a highborne mage on her shoulder. The disapproving glares of other highborne and sin’dorei burn into their flesh like felfire. The sin’dorei leads the highborne to a wide-trunked, short tree-based building. She feels around for the door, pushing it open as she found it.

The inside is busier than the outside. Healers rush around the building, occasionally exchanging a few words and many items before returning to their patients. The highborne over the sin’dorei’s shoulder groans in pain and annoyance, grimacing at the fact that they have to wade through the constantly moving crowd. 

Tightening her grip, the sin’dorei slowly leads her through the commotion, mumbling small assurances to the highborne as she does. Before they know it, they arrive to the other side of the building, standing in front of the entrance to a burrow. 

At the end of the winding decline, there is a room. The room is a connecting point for other burrows-- some are even collapsed. There are quite a few stone tables, designed for decidedly dark deeds, but they could work as medical tables as well.

The sin'dorei leads the highborne over to the table, lifting her up and gently laying her across. She could barely move by herself. She needed to fetch a healer as fast as she could, she decides. So she turns and--   
  
“Wait…”

The sin’dorei looks over her shoulder in absolute silence.

“Stay... with me.” The highborne croaks, weakly reaching for her.

She shakes her head. “I must go back out to the field. Certainly you know how us demon hunters are the major forces aga--”

“I don’t care…” The highborne mumbles. Her arm drops, and she sucks in air through her teeth. “First aid… first aid… no healing, no, no…” The highborne’s words are slurred and feverish. It is clear that whatever got her got her  _ good _ .

Internally, the sin’dorei faces a moral quandary. She doesn’t want this highborne to go without proper treatment; the healers would be doing a much better job than she ever could. But… there’s… something. Something is pulling her to stay, whispering to her and tugging at the threads of her mind.

She is silent.

The highborne is silent.

“My name is Vel’ania Dawnglen,” the demon hunter speaks first. “What is yours?”

The highborne stares up at Vel’ania in surprise.  _ She… actually budged? _

Vel’ania quirks a brow, awaiting an answer.

“Oh…” She blinks. “My name is... Shalessa Duskwhisper.” The highborne forces a smile.

“There is no need for pleasantries.” Vel’ania hums. “You are near fatally wounded. Sit up and show me where you are hurt.”

Shalessa does as told, sitting up and wincing at the pain spiking in her lower abdomen. She clutches at the wound and hisses, examining the blood now staining her hands. Vel’ania’s felfire optics seem fit to burn through her blindfold, what with how intensely she was examining the wound.

The wound is deep and jagged, obviously caused by the sharp and crude clutches of a felbat.  _ A fully-grown felbat, _ Vel’ania adds mentally. She reaches out and gently runs her fingers along the inside of the skin, causing Shalessa to grit her teeth and grip the stone table, white-knuckled.

Vel’ania retracts her hand and flicks her tongue against her newly bloodied fingers. The residue left from the felbat’s claws is quite obvious. She’s able to discern specifics about the attack and the creature itself.

_ About 148 years old. A mother. Fel was used in defense - almost… fear. Protection… _

Vel’ania’s brow furrows.  _ What could this highborne have been doing to warrant such an attack? _

“ _ Excuse _ me,” Shalessa snaps, “I’m fucking dying.”

“Not as bad as you were before.” Vel’ania quips back. “You can at least muster up some degree of annoyance. I am not sure whether to be happy for you or terrified for my sanity.”

Shalessa clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly.

“Now lie down,” Vel’ania instructs her, gently pressing her down by her chest, “I shall do my best to treat you.”

Shalessa huffs and follows her orders, crossing her arms. “You had best do it well.”

“Expect nothing less from one of Illidan’s right-hand generals.”

Vel’ania cackles at Shalessa’s startled expression.

**Author's Note:**

> Still goin' strong, writin' WoW stuff! The only problem is, I haven't finished any of them. Whoops. Have this for now; my two newest OCs!


End file.
